Remembering everyday heroes

It was long ago, though not so far away at all. An underage game on the frozen tundra of the old Tank Field or Nash’s or some such patch barren of grass and microbes.

There was a disagreement about something or other that escalated quickly and seemed important in the moment, but died down just as soon as the referee arrived on the scene.

He whipped out his notebook and took one player’s name before adding: “You know what your problem is?” (Tapped his forehead).